” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. A silence ensued. This gloom was impossible. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. Certain of my prey, I can afford to wait for it. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her.
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