Lucy could see the anger in her silhouette, the punishments and the grounding being formulated for the now dead daughter. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Ann Veronica woke rather later than usual, and lay awake for some minutes before she remembered a certain resolution she had taken in the small hours. He stood up and she ushered him out of the small room.
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