‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. Were I to let you go, you'd say I feared you. I have seen many of them. ” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men. She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. ” “There’s art,” said Ann Veronica, “and writing.
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