One doesn’t want to lose a grain. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. One would say she could try to —to prevent that her daughter will go to the convent. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times.
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