He can't play cards, either, when he's sober. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his arms and forming a tented cage.
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