She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. Larry Beck did his best to the flares of her temper from rising. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. They did not spend most days together. How could he have betrayed her so cruelly? How could he lie and claim her as dead? Sebastian studied her carefully as she refused to cry and became like a pillar of stone. And that would spoil it. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold.
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