” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. He knew what he knew. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. He loved Ann Veronica, he said; he was so mad to have her that he defeated himself, and did crude and alarming and senseless things. Laughed at me, then. But she felt his lax figure become rigid. . By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. As her belly swelled, so did he. But—” The tired woman raised her eyebrows in mild protest. He heard the woman talking again.
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