’ ‘But what age are you? Do you not require an heir?’ Melusine asked, her tone shocked. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Their heads touched again, their arms tightened. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. Besides, my husband has shares in Sir John’s company.
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