"[...]person, her blue-black hair curving in rich waves under the lace mantilla she had thrown over her head-a woman to mark, to remember. She stretched forth a long, white hand, with a vehement gesture. "Give it to me," she said. "I am Miss Walsingham." The man forgot his courtly smile and his wary watchfulness; his artificial polish cracked in all directions and exposed a terribly startled man. He gazed at Margaret Walsingham with arrested eye, and his hands strayed unconsciously to his wrists as if they would find ...
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"[...]person, her blue-black hair curving in rich waves under the lace mantilla she had thrown over her head-a woman to mark, to remember. She stretched forth a long, white hand, with a vehement gesture. "Give it to me," she said. "I am Miss Walsingham." The man forgot his courtly smile and his wary watchfulness; his artificial polish cracked in all directions and exposed a terribly startled man. He gazed at Margaret Walsingham with arrested eye, and his hands strayed unconsciously to his wrists as if they would find spectral shackles there. The envelope he held dropped to his feet, he stooped with a muttered oath, and recovering it, reached it to her outstretched hand.[...]."
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