She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. Ann Veronica was apologetic to the bottom of her soul. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. I arranged that he should.
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