She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. CHAPTER II. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. All her pride raged at me. The attempt was unsuccessful. But—it’s one of the things I’ve just been thinking over.
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