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During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. 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. The Roof and the Window. I’m sorry to disappoint you. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead.
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