” When the next holidays came Ann Veronica’s mother was ill, and Gwen was in the sick-room when Ann Veronica returned home. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. ” She interrupted as Ann Veronica was about to speak again, with a bright contagious hopefulness. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. I cannot turn into a bat. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little.
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