He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. “We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. Some day older people, perhaps, will trouble to understand younger people, and there won’t be these fierce disruptions; there won’t be barriers one must defy or perish.
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