Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. There is no future for me here. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Thus, the same system of plunder was everywhere carried on.
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