But no; she must step warily. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. "Your sympathy is being wasted. Wood. It is as if my lips had been sealed about them. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. "And on my part, I shall not lift a hand to defend myself. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly.
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