” “I borrowed it,” said Ann Veronica in a casual tone, with white despair in her heart. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. Some automaton within her produced in a quite unfamiliar voice the remark, “They’re playing football. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. How Jack Sheppard was again captured. And then her pace slackened.
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