“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. That is the dreadful truth. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. ‘I see that Leonardo was right. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. ‘She would not tell me. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. 1.
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