" As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. We are not animals. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. " "The very reason why I like him, Winny.
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