Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand. " "I see. ” He stopped and said earnestly: “It is the chief thing in life, and everything else goes down before it. "You mistake,—you are mine. Be warned by your father's fate. ” “I am convinced of it,” she answered. She turned there and beckoned. .
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