She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. “Why not?” he exclaimed.
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