Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. I made her my unwilling confederate. ” Her voice trembled with suppressed passion. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. That would be him.
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