Deuce take it! I was very near spelling my name with one P. Part 2 The next few weeks were a time of the very liveliest thought and growth for Ann Veronica. E. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. He frowned. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue. The decision had been sound.
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