It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. It was red and chapped. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. But a little daughter is one thing and a daughter quite another. It came to Ann Veronica that life was wonderful beyond measure. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. "I find I was in error. It was surely odd that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so vividly. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose.
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