She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. Abruptly would come the end. The man was my husband. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. 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.
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