” She said under her breath. Her pa was only the smithy. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. Her eyes were wide and bright. She had slept badly at first in a long chair next to the fire waiting for him to return, but caught on after that.
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