’ ‘She again?’ enquired his hostess, her delicate brows rising ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. 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. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. And, what's more, I tell you, if Captain Sheppard is hanged, you need never hope to call me Mrs. 3.
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