She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. My own impression is that he already knows. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. The elemental woman was always close to the cat: as the elemental man was always but a point removed from the wolf. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly.
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