The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. . And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face.
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