He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. He saw what he had done only as it related to Ruth. The very old lady in the antimacassar touched Ann Veronica’s arm suddenly, and said, in a deep, arch voice: “Talking of love again; spring again, love again. That dress she has on—my mother might have worn it. I don't think. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another.
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