‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. Wood. “I look older. He told her something about music, the great world outside. It was finished by the end of that year, each character having asserted itself pronouncedly in my imagination. These were seated in an imperfect semicircle about a very copper-adorned fireplace, surmounted by a carved wood inscription: “DO IT NOW. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create.
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