She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Ann Veronica liked their relationship all the more because it was an unusual one.
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