Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. He's settling an account in the house. “Yes, but maybe later. You are my prisoner, murderer. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. It always comes out sooner or later. Mr. Vite, I pray you. Sheppard, distractedly.
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