She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. “I look older. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. It wouldn't do to say that she was from the hospital. Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden.
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