In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. In a sense I don’t care. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. As for the patient, his decision was immediate.
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