She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. “I don’t think you realize,” Ann Veronica began again, “that I am rather a defective human being. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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