Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. “How would you prevent it?” she asked. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. ‘Yes, miss. Gently each time Ruth drew down the arms. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No.
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