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A vast indifference settled down upon him. “I am sick of it. But—It’s just this: who was to be hurt?” “I wish no one had to be hurt,” said Ann Veronica. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. “It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are. But you could have just as easily lost your womb in the Pestilence, and your life. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. "Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. The door was then locked, and he was left alone.
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