She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. Sir Cecil, who with Rowland and some others had entered the room rushed to the window with a torch. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit.
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