For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. She tried to think how people get work. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action. He would know the truth then once and for all. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. I’ve got too much work. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. ” Ann Veronica was doing her best to follow him.
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