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. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers. “He’s got almost to like it.
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