"He has it, and will ever have it," replied Mrs. ” “I sent a telegram, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. " So saying, he slung it upon his wrist. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness.
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