Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper.
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