Part 2 Ann Veronica Stanley was twenty-one and a half years old. ” He closed the door partially behind himself. . “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. “You left the TV on when you fell asleep in the living room, so I turned it off. Each time also we quarrel, and even if you are laughing very much, you become angry. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury.
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