“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. It was intolerable to think that he might overhear words and phrases. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose.
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