“Surely Lady Ennison would object, even if it were possible. ” “What did your aunt say?” “She didn’t even kiss me. How on earth does it concern you?” Annabel laughed hardly. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion.
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