She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. “Isn’t the question more complicated than that?” said Ann Veronica. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. “Bother it all!” she swore. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. Even in her hatred, she began to realize that Sebastian’s intelligence was much greater than Gianfrancesco’s. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun. She swallowed hard. He was no match for Brendon.
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