“I will do whatever you want,” said Ann Veronica. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. It’s all outside the world of your experience.
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