Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. Its parents have perished. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. The door popped open with a sigh.
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