Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. . By rights I ought to have arrested her days ago. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped.
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