She was shifting, moving back. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. He crawled underneath the covers with her. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight.
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