He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. We’ll be somewhere on the floor above. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold.
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