Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand. "My sister the wife of one condemned felon! the parent of another! It cannot be. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. Scarcely any one noticed the full measure of her consternation.
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