Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. “Ann Veronica,” he said. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. Seconded by his strength and temper, his skill rendered him invincible and he is reputed never to have lost a battle. She felt her canines growing. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. "The nurses," she answered. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. She’s a snob.
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