To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. And then at the street corner she came face to face with Nigel Ennison.
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