Her cheeks were the colour of chalk, her eyes were filled with terror. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Ann Veronica found herself walking back down the Avenue that had just been the scene of her first proposal beside her aunt, and speculating for the first time in her life about that lady’s mental attitudes. Wood in very characteristic attitudes, occupied a prominent place on the walls. .
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