” He shook her diminutive hand. ” Ann Veronica turned her back on the Michaelmas daisies, and faced toward the house with an air of a duty completed. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. Sometimes it seemed that she would never recover it. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient. . His fingers closed upon her hand. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door.
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