She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. Earles closed the piano with a little bang. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Turning now, and running down the terrace. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger.
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