She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. He slapped his knee. Selfishness. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. “I think everything’s right,” said Ann Veronica, with the roaming eye of a capable but not devoted house-mistress. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her.
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