The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. She had asked about that already, and her father had replied, evasively: “We’ll have to see about that, little Vee; we’ll have to see about that. They are their mother’s sons. . As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. He awoke, strangely content. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. There is a place—This isn’t the place.
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