And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. She has power over men’s fates in more ways than one. “My darling!” he said, clasping her resolutely in his arms, “my dearest!” “Mr. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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