“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. Listen to me, Winifred. . ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study.
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