“He has asked to see some one,” he whispered to the doctor. There is a small yewtree west of the church. In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out.
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