The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. The bump was coarse and didn’t feel right. I followed you home on the train. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. Then she would have quiet times, in which she would say to herself, “Now look here! Let me think it all out!” For the first time, it seemed to her, she faced the facts of a woman’s position in the world—the meagre realities of such freedom as it permitted her, the almost unavoidable obligation to some individual man under which she must labor for even a foothold in the world. All this was the work of a minute. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. I'll wait here.
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