In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. As to his mother, I've no pity for her. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. She had behaved in every way perfectly. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. . Was the young lady impatient for experience? Was she adventurous? As a man of the world he did not think it becoming to accept maidenly calm as anything more than a mask. ” Ann Veronica started from her reverie, sat up in her chair, became attentive. I’ve got no feminine class feeling.
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