From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone.
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