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. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. When next he asked for her, some twelve hours later, he was told that Mademoiselle had left. I will light the stove, and there shall be some coffee presently. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister.
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