The lady had disappeared. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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