‘Now then, missie. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same.
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