On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. The next hour makes, or mars you for ever. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours.
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