She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. All the influences about her worked with her own predisposition and against all the traditions of her home and upbringing to deal with the facts of life in an unabashed manner. ‘You’re right. "I am, Charcoal. Forgive my daring.
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