An unhappy little sigh escaped her. It dealt from floor to ceiling and end to end with the Theory of the Forms of Life; the very duster by the blackboard was there to do its share in that work, the very washers in the taps; the room was more simply concentrated in aim even than a church. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. She refused coffee, though she knew that anyhow she was doomed to a sleepless night. It’s no good. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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