Now lend me your own hand. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. To fight inertia on the one hand and to study this queer girl on the other. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. 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. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand.
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