Sebastian dared not approach her. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. “Very good,” he said.
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