"The part was crooked," she explained. 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. “It jars. Here you only waste your time. These persons were Mr. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. Just what it means. ” And to them were presently added a roguish-looking young man, with reddish hair, an orange tie, and a fluffy tweed suit, and others who, in Ann Veronica’s memory, in spite of her efforts to recall details, remained obstinately just “others. Ah Cum presented his black-bordered card to such individuals as seemed likely to require his services. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. I wonder if he really wants me to go home.
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