The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. He dropped the key on the counterpane. Vorsack would just have to live with it. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings.
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