Her mother…. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. The boy she had loved was gone.
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