All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. Miss Stanley threw aside a black cloak to reveal a discreet and dignified arrangement of brown silk, and then embraced Ann Veronica with warmth. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room, but did I show you the basement?” He asked.
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