She had the same sharp nose—which, indeed, only Ann Veronica, of all the family, had escaped. Melusine cursed herself for his injury. Laughed at me, then. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. Now, he must have folks somewhere. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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