“Julian, I don’t know how to put this. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. ” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. “If I were to marry now,” she said, “it would be with a sense of humiliation. She had warned him.
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