Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. He had deliberately saved it for last. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads.
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