At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. He gave an order, the proa was floated and the sail run up. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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