” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Cathy, who still thought Lucy would be off to trade school or community college like her plans for her other two children and was putting money away “in secret” for their college funds. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. “An uncle in New York is dead, and has left him loads of money.
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