It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows.
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