Kneebone nodded. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. Jack had well-nigh fallen too. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. "And the will?" he said, with forced calmness. But this calm was more awful than the previous roaring of the blast.
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