Expiation. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock.
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