Ann Veronica was not ready enough to deal with that counter-stroke. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. "Not proud in the least, I declare. "Come away!" he cried, with the roar of a demon. β βIt is so in a convent, you see,β she explained airily.
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