‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. He heard the panting of the donkey-engine, then the slithering of the anchor chains. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. The weed was all right. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. For the present the desire to fly was gone. E.
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