A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. I am—’ ‘Like me, entirely English. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. I ought to stay the night through; but I'm late now for an operation at the hospital. “It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully.
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