CHAPTER VIII. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica.
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