“I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression.
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