A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. In the chapel she sang with an open-lunged gusto that silenced Ann Veronica altogether, and in the exercising-yard slouched round with carelessly dispersed feet. "Won't you sit down?" "I beg your pardon! Come into the consultation office"; and the doctor led the way. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. "Give me the link," cried Jonathan.
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