She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. Purney, the ordinary, who had latterly conceived a great regard for Jack, addressed him in a discourse, which, while it tended to keep alive his feelings of penitence, was calculated to afford him much consolation. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor.
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