“You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. "Close the court, Mr. Tight. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. “Please come home. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter.
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