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She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. " The clock tinkled ten. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Chapter Four Two days later, it was quite another Melusine who confronted a young lad on a sunny morning, at variance with her bleak mood. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. She was an Egyptian, from the magical times.
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