"Hear me out," said Jonathan. ” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. "Something's wrong. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. 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 make a game with me, I think.
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