Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. " Davies reluctantly complied. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion.
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