Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. ” She said mournfully. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. “Well,” she admitted. Old and dilapidated, the widow's domicile looked the very picture of desolation and misery. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously.
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