CHAPTER XVI. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. It means. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them.
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