Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. Its heroes never had daughters, they borrowed other people’s. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied.
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