“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. Somehow to-night—I don’t know. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. " That satisfied something of her undefined hunger. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. I am not French in the least. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring.
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