Once he chuckled aloud. ” His voice rose and fell amidst the music and the singing of Tristan and King Mark, like a voice heard in a badly connected telephone. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. ‘Sapristi. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. ” “What did your aunt say?” “She didn’t even kiss me. My death, probably. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began.
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