“It was best for me to know. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. And all this time perhaps you have been waiting, expecting to hear from me. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Their conversation hung.
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