The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. Now I know that you don’t live as close to the Beck house as you once pretended. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly.
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