It was eleven o'clock. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. "I owe you nothing," he repeated, dully. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips.
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