She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. Let us have no more of this humbug. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky.
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