“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. ‘To what do you go, mademoiselle? The life of a nun in a convent, in a country where nuns are unwelcome. I once saw a man die after collapsing that way. I have made up my mind to insist upon moving from here into Park Lane, or one of the Squares. ” “And I also,” Brendon echoed. It must be the dawn creeping in.
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