” Ann Veronica felt a slight embarrassment. The Robbery in Willesden Church XVI. Battle, murder, and sudden death—and an old chap like McClintock tuning his piano in the midst of it. . . She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. It seems to me very silly. Then for a time she sat very still. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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