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She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. 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. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity. Above her head was an aura of white fire. . “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion.
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