Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. ” He hesitated, and went off at a tangent. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. This is your moment. Master, your humble servant. I don’t know anyone.
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