Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress. ‘s as mad as any of you, in spite of all his respectability; not a bit of him straight anywhere, not one bit.
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