They don’t count, and I don’t care. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast.
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