She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. "I'll take you into a Chinese home. ” Mr. ’ He scratched his chin as if he thought about it, but covertly kept a careful study of what he could see of her face. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. It was her past now, not Annabel’s.
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