“I will do whatever you want,” said Ann Veronica. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. Her stomach growled, and she clutched at it in reaction, haphazardly observing that the gown had been changed to silk. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress.
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