Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes. The meat was coarse and disagreeably served. Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. The thought of the picture but added to her despondency.
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