Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. “Please forgive me coming up, Miss Pellissier, but you have not been down to dinner for three nights, and—Brendon and I—we were afraid that you might be unwell. It was, Ann Veronica felt, as a sip or so of that remarkable blend warmed her blood, just the sort of thing that her aunt would not approve, to be lunching thus, tete-a-tete with a man; and yet at the same time it was a perfectly innocent as well as agreeable proceeding. I must provide for my safety. And we’re going to fight that old world down there. We are very poor, but manage to squeeze a little happiness out of each day.
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