‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London. She sensed that he was looking for her. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress.
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