Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. So dreadful were these shouts as to produce an effect upon the hardened feelings of Jonathan, who shrank out of sight. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. "I am glad you think that," she replied. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. One keeps rules in order to be one’s self.
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