It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. F. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. Fascination.
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