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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. I would not have him know—now—for the world. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. You must know that. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year.
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