“But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Around him were all the evidences of plenty.
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