She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. The great door of the Stone Hall was thrown open, and the sheriffs, preceded by the javelin-men, entered the room. ‘When one is penniless, one does not expect a life of ease.
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