She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. But it does not sound as if the girl that wears the name resembles either of her parents. They flash to and fro, they thrill us with expectancy. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. He might have been a complete innocent, she did not know and did not bother to find out.
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