” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. No wonder that Trenchard, as he gazed at this fearful being, should have some misgivings cross him. That is not reasonable. “You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. ’ ‘Pah! You can never be Valade. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes.
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