" Jack was about to comply; but not liking the man's manner, he walked on. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it.
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