’ ‘I think you understand me very well. Loneliness. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. “You knew it,” he added, in her momentary silence. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls.
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