“You are developing far too retentive a memory for praises,” said Ann Veronica. She was unusually soft and gentle in her manner to him. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. The world had not passed by but had gone around it in a tremendous half-circle. "Damnation!" exclaimed Wild with a snarl, that displayed his glistening fangs to the farthest extremity of his mouth, "I'm not to be trifled with thus.
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