Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. She turned a resolute face southward. Melusine came in, picked up the lantern, and heard the library door bang open just as the panel clicked closed behind her. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. The tired woman looked quietly at her. I wasn’t. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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