Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. 58 \"Why will you not touch me?\" She cried out, sitting up, her head in her hands. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. CHAPTER XI.
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