The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. We shall have Mr. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened.
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