Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. “None, I thank you,” he answered. Her aunt had a once exasperating habit of interrupting her work with demands for small household services, but now Ann Veronica rendered them with a queer readiness of anticipatory propitiation. “Odd little room,” said Ann Veronica, dimly apprehending that obtrusive sofa. You understand that term?” Ann Veronica smiled faintly.
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