” “Agreed,” said Ann Veronica. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. I'll teach you submission in time.
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