Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. I don’t love you. And I do not know you. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. Ann Veronica found herself in the presence of the most disconcerting fact in human experience, the kindliness of people you believe to be thoroughly wrong. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear.
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