” She led the way to the door, and Manning passed behind her and round her and opened the door for her. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. They would arrive sometime in June. Her eyes were wide and bright.
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