G. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. All the same, I don’t admit it.
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