And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. F. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter.
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