You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life. ” Ann Veronica reflected. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. Pews had been brought in and set in two rows before the huge table, covered in white cloth, that formed the altar at the far end. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. Clergymen were human.
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