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Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. He donned his winter coat. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. ” She felt strange confessing herself to a criminal attorney. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. She uttered a little ejaculative note of joy and rushed to the bed. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. It seems only yesterday that she was running down the Avenue, all hair and legs. . It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him.
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