She wore a wonderful dress of turquoise blue, made by a great dressmaker for a function which she knew very well now that she would never attend. Lucy's grin faded. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. “All my dreadful scientific things,” said Ann Veronica. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again.
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