She had only to get through this, to solace Manning as much as she could, to put such clumsy plasterings on his wounds as were possible, and then, anyhow, she would be free—free to put her fate to the test. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror.
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