Part 2 In the late afternoon, as Ann Veronica was gathering flowers for the dinnertable, her father came strolling across the lawn toward her with an affectation of great deliberation. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. Non. No means were neglected to accomplish this end. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. A group of ten began emerging outside the ticket area. Shari’s married and got two kids on her, a boy and a girl, twins, no less. She thrust at him, following, almost spitting him as he crashed against the altar, rocking the huge candlesticks and the vessels that stood on it. He stood away from her. But on arriving in the tattered saloon where he and Melusine had hidden, a shock awaited Gerald. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy.
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