Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. "To-morrow it will be mine. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. “If they matter to you, they matter. I loathe this room. ” She spoke with a certain asperity. CHAPTER XII. "'You've a long journey before you.
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