Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. She was particularly charmed by his theory of friendship. “Violence won’t do it,” said Ann Veronica.
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