Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. "All the wonderful things it is going to do! If I could only know for certain that my mother knew how happy I'm going to be!" "You love the memory of your mother?" "It is a part of my blood … my beautiful mother!" He saw Enschede, putting out to sea, alone, memories and regrets crowding upon his wake. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound.
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