You dear, dear girl. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. “I love your sister. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. Ann Veronica liked their relationship all the more because it was an unusual one.
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