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Updated: May 4, 2025
It's Miss Herminia Barton, the Dean of Dunwich's daughter." His father drew a long breath. The corners of the clear-cut mouth dropped down for a second, and the straight, thin eyebrows were momentarily elevated. But he gave no other overt sign of dismay or astonishment. "That makes a great difference, of course," he answered, after a long pause. "She IS a lady, I admit. And she's been to Girton."
It's the perpetual pressure of social and ethical restrictions that most weighs down women." Alan paused and looked hard at her. "And they tell me," he said in a slow voice, "you're the Dean of Dunwich's daughter!" Herminia laughed lightly, a ringing girlish laugh. Alan noticed it with pleasure.
"Oh, come this way," she said, sweeping across the lawn towards a girl in a blue dress at the opposite corner. "You must know our new-comer. I want to introduce you to Miss Barton, from Cambridge. She's SUCH a nice girl too, the Dean of Dunwich's daughter." Alan Merrick drew back with a vague gesture of distaste. "Oh, thank you," he replied; "but, do you know, I don't think I like deans, Mrs.
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