I was his wife. Ann Veronica found herself walking back down the Avenue that had just been the scene of her first proposal beside her aunt, and speculating for the first time in her life about that lady’s mental attitudes. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding.
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