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. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. But McClintock's mind was perceptive, whereas Spurlock's was only dully confused.
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