Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. He had pictured her, if indeed she had ever had the courage to do this thing, as sitting alone, convulsed with guilty fear, starting at her own shadow, a slave to constant terror. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes.
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