It came to Ann Veronica one night after a long talk with Miss Miniver, as a sudden remarkable thing, as a grotesque, novel aspect, that this slowly elaborating biological scheme had something more than an academic interest for herself. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. “It spreads like wildfire. "To-morrow I will take you to him. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. It's of no use. ” Ann Veronica said nothing. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl.
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