He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. You see, my riddle is solved. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself.
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