The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. But did many women get anything better? This afternoon, when she was urgent to explain her hampering and tainting complication with Ramage, the realization of this alien quality in her relationship with Manning became acute. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. I shouldn't care to express an opinion.
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