Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. Nigel Ennison was my very good friend, but there is not the slightest reason for your not marrying him, if you wish to do so.
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