He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. She drew a long breath. On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. It’s Italian.
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