CHAPTER I. I've sent for the priest. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. He rolled onto his belly, freeing himself from her hands, pushing her away. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica.
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