“You’re Glorious!” said Miss Miniver in tones of rapture, holding a hand in each of hers and peering up into Ann Veronica’s face. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. Perhaps that was the reason that they both remained standing. Courtlaw—Lady Mackinnor. Dear God, what a beautiful moment!" The fire went out of Spurlock's eyes and the shadow of hopeless weariness fell upon him. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored.
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