On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. "I'm surprised you've not asked that question before, Sir Rowland.
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