As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Ann Veronica loved beautiful things, and the beauty of undraped loveliness not least among them; but these were pictures that did but insist coarsely upon the roundness of women’s bodies. The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. Shari was snoring soundly. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. And, if you hear any odd noise in the parlour, don't mind it. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers.
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