But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. A thin line of red appeared in the white neck. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice.
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