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. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. “Why?” He inquired. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him.
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