He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. White was scattered across the long stretches of pine trees and corn fields. He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. "My sight is failing me. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met.
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