“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She’s hated me for no apparent reason ever since Fourth Grade. “Eight, Cavendish Square. “I should think YOU could do all sorts of things.
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