“She had contained and concealed them through the preceding argument, but now, as she faced the wind, she could allow them to form. Now that she was alone. Which was funny really, because she was always alone. Always calm, always staid, always perfect . . . Always alone, even among others, even with the man for whom she shed her tears. They spoke, but they never talked. Circumstances barred intimacy, bitterness barred friendship. All she received was harshness. But she unders...tood, and it was terrible to understand. It mean becoming the marble she lived with, never really showing emotion, choosing a course and following it, humoring him. . . . She was humoring him now by leaving the house and taking to the sea, a vision of his limpid blue eyes in her mind. Eyes she understood, and fought against. Standing on deck surrounded by people, her tears left her own sapphire gaze, and it became frosty, assessing.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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