She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. My, um, my curfew. . . Ennison spoke at last. "To go a little further. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling.
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