White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. What'll you be doing?" "What can I do?" asked Spurlock, raising his haggard face. Some one was standing beside him. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine.
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