He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. ’ ‘It is so in a convent, you see,’ she explained airily. I have pleaded with her—no wonder that I have pleaded with her in vain. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic.
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