“My Mom never gets a good night’s sleep. She leaned back in her chair. O'Higgins mounted the stairs, his step extraordinarily light for one so heavy. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. He jumped back, cursing. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth.
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