The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. And the food! She and Marina had done most of the cooking at home. These realizations rushed into Ann Veronica’s mind and hardened her heart against him. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud.
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