” He sighed. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh.
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