“We are not the sort that goes under,” said Ann Veronica, holding her hands so that the red reflections vanished from her eyes. When Jack came to speak of Jonathan Wild, his countenance fell. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. " "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness.
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