He was asleep. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune.
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