Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. ‘You do not believe me?’ ‘I do not. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. Then he had gone away. "Get a chair, Austin. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle.
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