Those were dreams. It’s just life, pure life, life nascent, running clear and strong. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. “What have I been all this time?” she asked herself, and answered, “Just stark egotism, crude assertion of Ann Veronica, without a modest rag of religion or discipline or respect for authority to cover me!” It seemed to her as though she had at last found the touchstone of conduct. She did not care that vampire children are abominations. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Giles's round-house. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them.
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