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. He kissed her cheek. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. ” “It was Cheveney!” he said slowly. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again.
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