Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. He was caked with dried muck. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I have been around them for long enough. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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