This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. You’re a good friend. He must have been following her from room to room, silent in his stockinged feet. 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.
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