\" She looked at Mike. . . About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. “And I’m not happy. Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. One transgression; he was sure of that.
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