Annabel Pellissier was not like the others, he said. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. He stared at her breasts while he touched them. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. He had no ideas about daughters.
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