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She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. 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. "If you get out o' that cage, I'll forgive you. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. “A volatile temperament—yes, a volatile temperament,” Mr. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown.
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