While there's life there's hope. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. They embarked upon an open and declared friendship. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies.
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