He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. Not for me. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. Then she called a hansom and drove home.
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