"The Dawn Pearl," he said. Hastily, he reached for the door. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. Gerald’s chest tightened. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. She walked through the walls. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. ’ He sighed.
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