’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. He knocked at the door. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them.
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