Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow. ’ A radiant smile dawned. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. I want to be a human being; I want to learn about things and know about things, and not to be protected as something too precious for life, cooped up in one narrow little corner. "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
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