’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. But you are Annabel. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. Good night. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature.
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