The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. ” “She’ll meet somebody one of these days—walking about like that. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion.
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