Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Prison was beastly. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. “With your permission,” he said to Anna, “I shall arrange a bed for him where he is. The will to live had returned. " "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. She found herself in a phase of violent reaction against the suffrage movement, a phase greatly promoted by one of those unreasonable objections people of Ann Veronica’s temperament take at times—to the girl in the next cell to her own.
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