He wanted her named Mary. There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. But perhaps if people didn’t like clear, bright, healthy eyes—which is biologically understandable—they couldn’t like precious stones. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket.
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