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. “I hope that you are going to allow me to see something of you during your stay in London, for the sake of old times. She's too pretty and unusual. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner.
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