To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. “What can I do?” “Go and see her.
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