Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind. John picked it up and put it in her hands. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her.
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