“It’s no sort of good, Ann Veronica, pretending one does believe when one doesn’t. I felt—wrapped in thick cobwebs. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. Mrs. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television.
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