Spurling, half aside. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. It was well for him that he had taken his place by Sheppard, as regard for the latter alone prevented the deadliest missiles being hurled at him. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction.
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