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. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. There are unwritten laws governing human conduct. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. ” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon.
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