He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then.
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