The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. " She rose. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. ” He replied. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love. Teas he contributed to the commissariat of Ann Veronica’s campaign—quite a number of teas. ’ Saling coughed. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. .
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