Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. “Not a bit. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. 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. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night.
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