. CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. People of your sort—I don’t want the instincts to—to rush our situation. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. I ought to have gone long ago.
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