’ ‘Eh bien. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. ” Ann Veronica reflected for an instant “That’s why I think I ought to come. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. But it was of no avail. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music.
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