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After all, that was life. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. ” “I am sorry,” said Ann Veronica. “Now, Veronica,” he pleaded, “Veronica, this is most unreasonable. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. Kneebone will excuse you. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried.
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