Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall.
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