“And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. 9. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly. "Do you not know me, father?" said the young man, advancing towards him, and warmly grasping his hand.
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