Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. Just an idea of mine. Gracious, there’s the gong. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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