Her cargo is nearly shipped. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. But if he's in bed, how the devil is he going with me, supposing I decide to hire him? The mudhook comes up to-morrow night. 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. You know what? I’m going to make a surprise announcement at the concert tonight, but I wanted to give you the heads up.
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