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. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. “You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. " "Comfort yourself, then, Aliva. I loved her so much. Q.
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