She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. " "Oh, no!" Ruth protested. CHAPTER XXIX. Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow.
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