“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. It hit her just above the knee. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. Then you will begin to see. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question.
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