She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. 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. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time.
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