” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. "How is the patient?" he asked. Brendon. The major might not indulge in this sort of flirtation in the ordinary way, but he had seen enough among his army colleagues to know just how to go about it. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. My heart cannot take it. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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