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The Were-Wolf by Clemence Housman
page 31 of 62 (50%)
where salvation lay in the holy-water stoup at the door. His faith
was as firm as any that wrought miracles in days past, simple as a
child's wish, strong as a man's will.

He was hardly missed during these hours, every second of which was
by him fulfilled to its utmost extent by extremest effort that
sinews and nerves could attain. Within the homestead the while,
the easy moments went bright with words and looks of unwonted
animation, for the kindly, hospitable instincts of the inmates
were roused into cordial expression of welcome and interest by the
grace and beauty of the returned stranger.

But Sweyn was eager and earnest, with more than a host's courteous
warmth. The impression that at her first coming had charmed him,
that had lived since through memory, deepened now in her actual
presence. Sweyn, the matchless among men, acknowledged in this
fair White Fell a spirit high and bold as his own, and a frame so
firm and capable that only bulk was lacking for equal strength.
Yet the white skin was moulded most smoothly, without such
muscular swelling as made his might evident. Such love as his
frank self-love could concede was called forth by an ardent
admiration for this supreme stranger. More admiration than love
was in his passion, and therefore he was free from a lover's
hesitancy and delicate reserve and doubts. Frankly and boldly he
courted her favour by looks and tones, and an address that came of
natural ease, needless of skill by practice.

Nor was she a woman to be wooed otherwise. Tender whispers and
sighs would never gain her ear; but her eyes would brighten and
shine if she heard of a brave feat, and her prompt hand in
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