Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. In the struggle her cap fell off. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. Ann Veronica’s desire to laugh unrestrainedly was checked by the tremendous earnestness of his expression. “I don’t see, Mollie,” he remarked, taking a cigar from the box on the table as his sister and daughter rose, “why you and Vee shouldn’t discuss this little affair —whatever it is—without bothering me.
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