Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. You may enjoy your pride, your arrogance—in a coffin. She was very pretty. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations.
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