Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. The supreme effect for Ann Veronica was its surpassing relevance; it made every other atmosphere she knew seem discursive and confused. She got up and unlocked the door. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. Promise me. She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. 255 “You have a very talented son,” was her opening line. " But she did not complete the thought aloud.
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