“You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. Perhaps you will now explain the alarm. It was now a quarter past twelve. Stanley, to which the two ladies subordinated themselves intelligently.
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