Her stifled misery had betrayed her. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. I do wish you could come and dine with us some evening. She isn't used to cities.
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