She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. Then he turned to Anna. Sheppard. ‘Think I’m fool enough to do my business in a convent?’ he said scornfully. But after Singapore she found herself enduing them with the characteristics of the heroes in the novels she had just read for the first time. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap.
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