At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out. “We can be alone?” She inquired. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. After all, why need one look down.
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