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After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. White became conscious of a distinct sense of uneasiness, and showed it in her face. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship.
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