Ann Veronica, after a last survey of the dinner appointments, followed him, rustling, came to his side by the high brass fender, and touched two or three ornaments on the mantel above the cheerful fireplace. "Hush!—come hither, and I'll tell you. ” “Well?” “I went from Anna’s flat to Nigel Ennison’s rooms. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father.
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