The audience was made up of parents, teachers, and a few other curious folks from town, all sitting hushed in anticipatory silence as the school orchestra assembled onstage. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. Marvel.
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