“You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. She has already forgotten it. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. "I've counted ten coffins so far. Explain to Sir John our feelings.
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