’ ‘But it is stupide. She would marry him. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. The door to the library burst open. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. He jumped out of the car.
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