” Ennison hesitated for a moment. "And now, mark me. ’ She waved towards a handy table to one side which was piled high with so many volumes, it looked in imminent danger of crashing to the floor. 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. She shrugged her shoulders. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. I love my husband. Ah, and put him under if he wakes up.
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