Every home is a little recess, a niche, out of the world of business and competition, in which women and the future shelter. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. They send you every good wish. Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression.
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