Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. I’m a soldier, you see. 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. There are human limitations, and no doubt you reached yours. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor.
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