Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. ” His father said. Which are you—Valade or Charvill? Or, no, let me guess. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself.
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