“Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. If by any chance I have made a mistake a word will bring me to you. It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. ” “Coffee! Bah!” The newcomer picked her way across the floor with daintily uplifted skirts, and subsided into a deck chair of stretched canvas.
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