Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. “Why did I ever take that loan? An idiot girl in an asylum would have known better than that! “Vulgarity of soul and innocence of mind—the worst of all conceivable combinations. He seemed to be about to move toward her.
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