Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. Certainly you have a reason. That was what she was trying to make him understand.
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