’ Hilary eyed him. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. "As an honest Chinaman. Her disapproval was obvious enough. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. 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.
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