It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof. She loved for him to regale her with the stories of his past, the days of ancient Greece. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The Return. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready.
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