That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. A live man. "May come!—it will come!—it shall come!" cried the carpenter, shaking his hand menacingly at him. At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor.
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