” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. She looked away.
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