" "That is your fault, none of mine. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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