The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. She’s taken my sword.
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