Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating.
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