Sebastian sat smirking in amusement. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. ’ He made a pretence of rising and making a sortie to the corner to see if anyone was there. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. CHAPTER X.
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