He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland. “Come with me. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. ’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told.
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