The storm burst upon them in its fury. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father.
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