. . Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed. We can see round them and behind them and through them, and most of us use that knowledge, in the silent way we have, for our great ends. 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.
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