He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. I can't invent; the thing won't come. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. Spurling, who wished to protract the discovery of the escape as long as possible.
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