‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. “Yes?” he said. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. Have you anything to ask me?” Ann Veronica readjusted her mind hastily. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. He was no doubt doing his best to express the attitude of society toward these wearily heroic defendants, but he seemed to be merely rude and unfair to Ann Veronica. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. .
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