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. “You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. ” “I can spare it,” Anna answered suavely.
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