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A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. " The spinster did not ask if the mother lived; the question was inconsequent. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. That's the only fault I know of. I could not love you else. I thought you understood.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 21:46:28