She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. "Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. “The fact of it is, and this absurd project of yours only brings it to a head, you have begun to get hold of some very queer ideas about what a young lady in your position may or may not venture to do. Her desires were not for riches. No mercenary consideration influences me. Yon must be mine to-night. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting.
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