A lovely, fetching girl. . She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. “You’re very nice, both of you,” she said gently. “Oh Christ! How old were you?” “Just—well, I was young. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. Her lips were dry and cracked.
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