Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. White rang the bell. The gentleman catched him i' th' fact, and we shut him up for safety i' that pris'n. Celeste introduced him to me—oh, how Celeste hated me! She must have known.
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