‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. I was in the front row, and I fancied she smiled at me. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone.
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