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. "At the bottom of that big envelope I found this one. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. But it was hopelessly hard to put. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience.
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