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. So I set out to find you, even if it cost ten times sixteen thousand. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him.
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