Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. May I come home and try to be a better daughter to you? “ANN VERONICA.
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