Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. " "The very point I aim at," said Darrell as he passed through the outlet. "How long shall I be here?" he asked. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude.
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