He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. Ennison reeled, and almost fell.
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