” He looked at her pleadingly. Mr. “My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s. "Is it poison?" she asked. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not.
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