Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. Wood had retired to his own room, where he had just summoned Thames. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. ToC Mrs. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. It is difficult to express these things.
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