The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. \"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. “You’re—I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet.
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