“Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious.
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