The Morning Post was hungry for governesses and nursery governesses, but held out no other hopes; the Daily Telegraph that morning seemed eager only for skirt hands. . 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. “Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. ” She slipped on her cloak and stepped into the hansom with him.
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