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. “She must have character. She was struck by a change in his appearance. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. He had not noticed the girl particularly when she offered the sandwiches; but in this moment he found her beautiful.
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