“It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. Her eyes were fixed upon the ground, the pink colour coming and going in her cheeks was very delicate and girlish. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly.
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