I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. And then all her restlessness was turned to joy. It is better to face the truth.
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