She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. One married as he wished and one against his wishes, and now here was Ann Veronica, his little Vee, discontented with her beautiful, safe, and sheltering home, going about with hatless friends to Socialist meetings and art-class dances, and displaying a disposition to carry her scientific ambitions to unwomanly lengths. Wood. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said. “Non. James’ Park?” Anna nodded, and made a careful selection from a dish of quails.
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