It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. In this way, more than a month passed over. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. She covered herself with her arms. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. CHAPTER XXI. Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. "I have nearly done," replied the stranger. He smiled.
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