“I wish,” she said, “that you would leave off looking at me as though I were something grisly. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome.
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