Stay where you are, Mr. Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along 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. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt.
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