They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors.
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