The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. "I'm sorry," she said. You must have figured that out by now. If so I shall have to leave. I don't know anything about you. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart.
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