” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. The landing was defended by Quilt Arnold and the Jew. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands.
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