I thought one had only to take it by the throat. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. Sir John hesitated. Teaching the word of God to the recent cannibal, caring for the sick, storming the strongholds of the plague, adding his own private income to the pittance allowed him by the Society, and never seeing the angel that walked at his side! Something the girl knew nothing about; else Enschede was unbelievable. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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