“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. ‘Very. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. " "Treated you like a white man there, did they?" "Like a gentleman. He used a most awful word! Then he said, ‘It’s Ann Veronica gone to join her sister!’ ‘Gone!’ I said. I saw him lying on the footway. ‘So it was. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her.
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