" "No! I have run away from my father. “Let me think,” said Ann Veronica. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. I can’t help you a cent. “And what on earth,” he said, “do you think the world is made of? Why do you think I have been doing things for you? The abstract pleasure of goodness? Are you one of the members of that great white sisterhood that takes and does not give? The good accepting woman! Do you really suppose a girl is entitled to live at free quarters on any man she meets without giving any return?” “I thought,” said Ann Veronica, “you were my friend. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise.
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