He looked at her, hurt. It was a bright and beautiful day: so bright, so beautiful, that even her sad heart was cheered by it. But "fine" is the word. I can't help looking at you frequently. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled.
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