He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. ‘Poor things. . ‘You were right, miss. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice.
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