Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her.
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