Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. And, though it's a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely.
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