CHAPTER XXI. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. ’ ‘And do not say you made a mull.
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