After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. S. Go on and tell me. She heard the bamboo curtain rattle slightly. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. I see. “Oh, please. So I am already no longer the girl you knew at Morningside Park. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image.
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