A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron.
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