Ann Veronica listened thoughtfully, with her eyes on the turf, and now and then she asked a question or looked up to discuss a point. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. She was delivered home by 11:30pm. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of.
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