“You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. Gosse sneered. She did not know Mr. No— no, it must never be. “Well, if I find your conversation interesting I shall listen. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. You are a sisterless man; you have never heard the ordinary talk that goes on at a girls’ boarding-school. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. She lied.
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