Part 3 Ann Veronica’s father was a solicitor with a good deal of company business: a lean, trustworthy, worried-looking, neuralgic, clean-shaven man of fifty-three, with a hard mouth, a sharp nose, iron-gray hair, gray eyes, gold-framed glasses, and a small, circular baldness at the crown of his head. Then suddenly, in front of all those windows, he folded her in his arms and pressed her to him, and kissed her unresisting face. She did not care that vampire children are abominations. “Think of that check you endorsed.
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