She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no.
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