Then the inner door opened abruptly. Jonathan, however, still lingered. Spurlock looked up. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. ” He turned to the waiter, who held a wine-card. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years.
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