She looked at him mournfully. ‘You were his daughter. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. It did so well that they sold it in the nineties. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. She has also been afflicted with occasional returns of her terrible malady.
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