See paragraph 1. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. She felt the whack from about six feet away, kitty corner. He came in apologetically; all the old “Well, and how ARE we?” note gone; and once he asked Ann Veronica, almost furtively, “How’s Alice getting on, Vee?” Finally, on the Day, he appeared like his old professional self transfigured, in the most beautiful light gray trousers Ann Veronica had ever seen and a new shiny silk hat with a most becoming roll. Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. “Must be hard to find a decent violin teacher these days. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door.
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