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Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. Ann Veronica had had some training at the Tredgold College in disentangling threads from confused statements, and she had a curious persuasion that in all this fluent muddle there was something—something real, something that signified. But also this must not go on. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. . ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. . She tested the limits to see how far 79 she could go, often running away for the day, causing him to fret and pace.

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