But it must have been something that could show her to be Mary’s daughter. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “A man who does not touch his wife, who ignores his wife, what kind of man is he? I am not sick any more. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point.
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