As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal—tonight he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite.
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