Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. “Violence won’t do it,” said Ann Veronica. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. " Mr.
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