She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. He will not come. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. “You Mr. ” “You what?” she repeated incredulously. " He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust them under her arm. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene.
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