The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted. I'm a poor nurse. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. "It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. "Because you did not wish to hurt me?" "Yes.
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