The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. She shut her lips hard, her jaw hardened, and she set herself to struggle with him. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ‘Come, cry a truce. After dinner Ann Veronica went into the drawing-room with Miss Stanley, and her father went up to his den for his pipe and pensive petrography. Love is one thing and friendship quite another.
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