As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. One cannot trust any man at all. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. Vorsack would just have to live with it.
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