‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves.
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