She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. . She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. I deal with the Malay mostly; but twice a year I visit islands occupied by the true blacks, recently cured of their ancient taste for long-pig. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said.
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