It would have been a crisis anyhow, but it was complicated in Ann Veronica’s mind by the fact that a letter lay on the breakfast-table from Mr. " "It's a hopeless job," grumbled Blueskin, "and harm will come of it. She's my mealticket. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. “Now I see what everything means,” said Ann Veronica to herself; and it really felt for some days as though the secret of the universe, that had been wrapped and hidden from her so obstinately, was at last altogether displayed. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. The man pulled up. “I am afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain. She did not have the power of men. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. I doubt if you will receive anything for your trouble. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing.
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