She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. They are not your children, they never were. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. ’ Still the girl said nothing. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides.
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