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. “I wish you would come and see my lawyers. She made up her mind in the train home that it should be a decisive crisis. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. “Not possible. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit.
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