The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. . " "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. See what you have made of me. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors.
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