"Amazement!" cried Wild. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. "Sir Cecil is no more. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. The light touch of Ah Cum's hand upon her arm broke the thread of retrospective thought; and her gray eyes began to register again the things she saw. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. Oh, don't worry.
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