From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. “I have not quarrelled with her. He seated himself before it. He was now almost driven to despair. "Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul.
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