The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Anna felt that her words had become charged with a fuller and more subtle meaning than any which she had intended to impart. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. The same overly curly pubic hair, which she now saw was trying to protrude from the sides of her bikini underwear. Barring that the Valade fellow had sneaked back. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. Voilà tout. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours.
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