Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. He was no doubt doing his best to express the attitude of society toward these wearily heroic defendants, but he seemed to be merely rude and unfair to Ann Veronica. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. Mrs. Wood, with a look meant to reduce her supposed rival to the dust. Never. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. “We are to begin our married life to-night—here where I first met you. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence. No, don’t interrupt me.
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