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He was always visualizing the Hand whenever he let his gaze rest upon the horizon. The three young men exchanged expressive glances. But I was portentous, I can assure you. ’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. “Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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