She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian.
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