Ann Veronica sat back with a sigh of relief. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. “Come, daddy,” said Ann Veronica, following her husband and Miss Stanley; and in the fulness of her heart she gave a friendly squeeze to the parental arm. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened.
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