Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. "Water!" he gasped. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death.
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