Their flitting hands were always touching. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. "Not in the least," returned Kneebone, slyly, "not in the least. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work.
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