Lucy spoke once they had turned the corner. "Rachel," said Mr. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. She seemed to grow more beautiful to him and not the opposite. “Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake.
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