There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger.
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