She pushed him gently on the chest. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. He was unusually absurd and ready, and all the time it seemed to Ann Veronica as a delightful possibility, as a thing not indeed to be entertained seriously, but to be half furtively felt, that he was being so agreeable because she had come back again. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. For the present the desire to fly was gone. He waited the pleasure of Monsieur.
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