But a far greater affliction was in store for her. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. ‘But the fact remains that you should not have enjoyed it, you were quite right to threaten to kill me, and I— God help me!—should not have kissed you at all. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression.
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