“But I don’t see,” said Ann Veronica, “just how it fits the present situation. "All I want is to be happy!" she said aloud, as if she were asking for something of such ordinary value that God would readily accord it to her because there was so little demand for the commodity. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. He looked about for his hat, and put it on.
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