Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. It was a cheerful, irresponsible, shamelessly hard-up family in the key of faded green and flattened purple, and the girls went on from the High School to the Fadden Art School and a bright, eventful life of art student dances, Socialist meetings, theatre galleries, talking about work, and even, at intervals, work; and ever and again they drew Ann Veronica from her sound persistent industry into the circle of these experiences. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. She has contrived to keep out of my sight up to this time, and I've no doubt she'll keep out of it altogether for the future. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. " "It matters not. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion.
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