He went on with intense urgency. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. ‘For my part, I am in no hurry to end this exciting little adventure. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. I couldn’t help the thought.
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