She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. " "Caught you napping, eh?" rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing.
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