His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. I didn't mean it. The poor fellow's half smothered. I didn’t know. He filled his pipe slowly.
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