’ Gerald drew his breath in sharply as Lord Charvill took a step towards his granddaughter, thrusting out his head. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go.
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