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. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. She let out a wail. He said the place had gone to wrack. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint.
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