Watch: page 29

. The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Most of them didn’t, anyhow.

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