’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared.
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