The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. His manner was deferential, even eager. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. ’ ‘What is all this about your proof?’ demanded Roding, diverted. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty.
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