Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. "You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights. ‘But, Gérard—’ ‘Don’t start arguing,’ he said in a tone that brooked no defiance. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief.
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