She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. She pointed. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. " "You believe it, father?" "From the bottom of my heart. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour.
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