She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. My reception at West Kensington you know of. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ” Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door.
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