Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. "Fold it … under the pillow. Manning at last broke down by coming directly at her as she talked with the vicar’s aunt about some of the details of the alleged smell of the new church lamps. 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. Then she sang. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper.
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