“It has all been a mistake, hasn’t it?” “No more talking,” the doctor interposed. It’s that father of yours you take after, no question. Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths.
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