Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. They pressed more insistently, forcing her lips open. They thought that she was her own mother. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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