Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. “I WILL be arrested! I WON’T go home!” the little old lady was screaming over and over again. They sat down at the dining room table which seemed empty and 259 huge in the stark, white-walled room. ’ Gerald sighed. “He was alive at four o’clock this afternoon,” she answered, “but the doctors give little hope of his recovery.
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