“No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. But Ann Veronica had still to get to her chief topic. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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