A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. His eyes were set too close together. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. His nose was large but also fine and angular, tapering to a point at the end like a nobleman’s. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss.
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