“I do hope that I shall be able to make it up to you. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. I'm about to leave this country for ever.
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