Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. “If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. He was snoring stupidly. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side.
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