His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. A true nun. I'm nearly nabbing you. That's the way she strikes me. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. 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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