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. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. “I saw—they knocked off your fetters yesterday. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. You are—horrible. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper.
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