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. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. “I don’t think she will,” she said. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. He began really to like Spurlock, despite the shadow of the boy's past, despite his inexplicable attitude toward this glorious girl.
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