“Ugh!” she said. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. But it is not entirely without hope, for perhaps they may find some succour with Charvill. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead.
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