” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. ‘What a fate he finds for me. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table.
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