She had warned him. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. "That's fine," said O'Higgins. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. "I cannot climb the boat.
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