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“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ’ ‘What?’ Appalled, Gerald could only gaze at her. There's the paragraph. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. They had asked her to come to the first of the two great annual Fadden Dances, the October one, and Ann Veronica had accepted with enthusiasm.
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