” For some creditable moments in her life Ann Veronica was utterly disgusted with herself; she was wrung with a passionate and belated desire to move gently, to speak softly and ambiguously—to be, in effect, prim. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. Mike dismissed her with a wave, and she left the room, knowing she could not say anything to please him she swiftly left the room. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked.
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