"He is," returned Quilt, significantly. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. I am resolved to see her, without delay, and ascertain if it's possible to remove her. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered.
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