Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. "Well?" he whispered. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Sir John felt hot and furious. Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure.
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