She opened her mouth and inhaled water. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. Her sister had told him that it was true. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. "If we take him, I don't mind giving you a share—say a fourth—provided you lend a helping hand.
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