” “I sent a telegram, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. "Well, Joan," said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, "what say you?—silence gives consent, eh?" Mrs. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come.
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