’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. She said she hoped she had not distressed him by the course she had felt obliged to take, and he told her not to be a fool. Ramage did not know. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Vorsack looked pale and pink. The major’s hand stilled. "I understand," she said. But about dat jonker," he continued, lowering his voice; "have you anything to add consarnin' him? It's almosht a pity to put him onder de water.
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