“When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. On these were thrown all the horrible contents of Jonathan's museum, together with the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard. Once he suggested they should go to a music-hall and see a wonderful new dancer, but Ann Veronica did not feel she cared to see a new dancer. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. Not a breath was drawn. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months.
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