He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘Come on, Hilary. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. One day she desisted from her search and went unexpectedly to the Tredgold College.
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