“Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat.
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