But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house. But it was hopelessly hard to put.
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