Neither father, aunt, nor brothers made a sign, and then one afternoon in early February her aunt came up in a state between expostulation and dignified resentment, but obviously very anxious for Ann Veronica’s welfare. Tea in the laboratory was a sort of suffragette reception. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Mrs. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair.
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