“My dear,” she began, with an affectionate hand on Ann Veronica’s shoulder, “I do SO wish you would realize how it grieves your father. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. "Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr.
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