” She paused again. This is a joke of yours. She had lost it. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. 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.
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