Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. He had the air of a man who has said too much.
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