She stepped backwards. ” He contradicted himself by plunging into an exposition of motifs. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. She had even played in an opera by Verdi once, but had to dress as a boy to do it. ‘You’d do the same.
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