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Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. “I should like to understand you,” he said. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room.
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