“Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. She loved him. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. For a few minutes, Darrell seemed to have the advantage in the conflict. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done.
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