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. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. “Yes?” he said. "Seize this oar," vociferated the waterman. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures.
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