Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. ‘Speak, then.
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