"But, of course it is impossible." She disengaged her hands, and, turning away, looked out of the window.
Lane rather weakly sat down.

What had come over him?
His blood seemed bursting in his veins.

Then he gazed round the dingy little parlor and at this girl of twenty, whose beauty did not harmonize with her surroundings.

Fair-haired, white-faced, violet-eyed, she emanated tragedy.

He watched her profile, clear cut as a cameo, fine brow, straight nose, sensitive lips, strong chin.