Sir John hesitated, and then continued. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “Oh. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. But it was of no avail. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. "I've done no more than my duty, Mrs. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence.
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