Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. ‘So that’s true, is it?’ ‘Certainly it is true,’ Melusine said, opening her eyes wide. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips.
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