She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. Burn your palette and your easel.
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