Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. She drew it out with shaking fingers. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. ’ Her face fell.
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