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. “Have you never met a suitable wife? What is wrong with getting married and having children as Mike and Shari have done? I should love to think. But—Miss Pellissier!” “Well?” “Are you quite sure that you want us this evening? Wouldn’t you rather be alone? Just say the word, and we’ll clear out like a shot. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. She was very excited. ’ ‘How shocking. Empty, silly, coarse brutes.
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