Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. "You thank Heaven for the escape of the man who did his best to get your child's neck twisted. \"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting.
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