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. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. The well of tears in her eyes was dry. “I am. I seed he was one,—and a sharp un, too,—at a glance. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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