“What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. Very dark, like yours, ma’am. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly.
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