“You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. Then the inner door opened abruptly. His commissions this day would not fill his metal pipe with one wad of tobacco. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Such apartments as she saw were either scandalously dirty or unaccountably dear, or both.
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