. “There is my aunt,” she said. One only. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. He boasted of her ability to learn to men who were a stone’s throw from having the power of the pope himself. It occurred to Ann Veronica once that she had known him when he was younger, but day had followed day, and each had largely obliterated the impression of its predecessor.
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