On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. ” Ann Veronica closed the door quite softly and stood still. They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. 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. About this conception of ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica.
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