She is not in the least like the descriptions of her. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. ’ ‘I had never the intention to tell you anything, pig!’ Gosse moved forward a little.
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