Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. "We must change the subject," remarked Thornhill, pausing in his task; "this will never do. What is it you’re after? Money, I suppose. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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