Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. ’ She eyed him, all her uncertainty surfacing. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. "What of her?" cried the knight.
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