"Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. 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. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. “Is that plain?” she asked. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. \" \"I'm sorry I didn't call. “I am one who controls most of the Church, dear. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest.
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