Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy.
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