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Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. —Strype's Stow. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. Spurling and Marvel rose too. I rarely set foot in London these days. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred.
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