“Let me help you,” he begged. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. But Blueskin was not to be silenced. I can't invent; the thing won't come. ‘Ask him.
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