Wood, popping her head through the window. Section 2. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. "I'm sorry, Mr.
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