" "From whom?" vociferated Trenchard. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. The gallows has groaned for him for years. 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. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips.
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