An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. Here he found another strong door, making the fifth he had encountered. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink.
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