“Why could you not confide in us?” “Do what?” said Ann Veronica. "It is droll," he said. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. "Don't be angry with me, Thames," continued Sheppard, in a tone calculated, as he thought, to appease his companion's indignation. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness.
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