But, I'll expose him. Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. Good riddance. She reached the station, and mingling with a crowd of excursionists who had come from the river on the other side, took her place in the train unnoticed. Vite, I pray you. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. “You may not leave. Will you be a faithful and honest wife? Will you do your duty by him, and forget all your past follies? Unless, Annabel, you can——” “Oh, I will pledge you my word,” Annabel cried passionately, “my solemn word.
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