She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. Her sister Alice seemed to have developed a religious sense away there in Yorkshire, and made appeals that had no meaning for Ann Veronica’s mind. Here, put it on your finger. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. I never see them, they never even call. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. She did not think Ann Veronica would do as her companion.
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