Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster.
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