Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. ‘Point it at me. " "Ay, and there's my liver. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. You don’t know what you’re saying, and I hope you never will. She looked and felt like a fairy princess. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease.
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