“Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. But here was a girl—she must be a girl, since she was his daughter and pat-able—imitating the woman quite remarkably and cleverly. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. . . Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. ’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. To be complete, my vengeance must be tardy. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud.
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