” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. He thought it best to let the matter drop. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. A phase of mental activity that men called courage: to summon at will this energy which barred the ingress of the long cold fingers of fear, which cleared the throat of stuffiness and kept the glance level and ever forward. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. A fortnight passed, then a month. Meanwhile, the object of all this fearful disturbance had made his escape to Newgate, from the roof of which he witnessed the destruction of his premises. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. I'll repay you. If you’ll forgive my saying that, and implying what goes with it.
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