"Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. ” “It might become one,” he answered.
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