As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. 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 is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. “I remember it very well indeed. His eyes closed. ‘Hilary is a darling.
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