“I love you, Ann Veronica. But you are Annabel. She let out a delighted laugh. ’ The gentleness in his voice nearly overset her. And now her father said she must not go. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. \"Oh.
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