Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. . ” Ann Veronica remained anxious to hear more of her sister’s story from her father’s point of view, but he did not go on. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living.
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