The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Kneebone's cheeks glowed with rage, and he set down the wine untasted, while Blueskin resumed his song. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. ” Lucy looked at Michelle sympathetically. .
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