She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. “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. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. He looked at her, hurt. I do—with all my heart. He savored the last solo, the coda.
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