“You love some one else?” he repeated. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. My birthday was on May first. ” The girl received this intimation in silence, but the face that looked down upon the gas fire took an expression of obstinacy that brought out a hitherto latent resemblance between parent and child. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. She acted as her mother had taught her to.
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