“Ann Veronica is looking very well, don’t you think?” he said, a little awkwardly. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean.
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