It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him.
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