"It's an odd-shaped one," rejoined Kneebone, examining it attentively. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. S. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. Ann Veronica surveyed his sloping back for a moment, and then drew her microscope toward her.
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