Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. The colouring was green and white, with softly shaded electric lights, an alcove bedstead, which was a miracle of daintiness, white furniture, and a long low dressing-table littered all over with a multitude of daintily fashioned toilet appliances. I need only just jump up and throw myself upon you. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. It was obvious that he had waited for her. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. " "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. Capes? Well, think what it must be to live in them—soul and mind and body! It’s fun for a man to jest at our position. Saint Giles's Round-house XIII.
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