Promise me that you will not disobey the injunctions of her whose memory we must both of us ever revere. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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