Fairbanks, AK, 99712. Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair. 1. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected.
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