I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. And then she fell into a musing about Capes. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light.
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