She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. Too late. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. . “Well, anyhow, consider it open. Take it, if I die. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. “Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica.
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