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He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. She had no place she loved. Brendon. It was only when they came into a square that daylight had a positive quality. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. You're the first widow I ever heard of who could withstand that lure.
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