As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. Ennison stood by her side. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. . Heliers. There you are! Girl spoilt for life. The girl in the forward chair raised herself a little, the better to see the gorgeous blue palanquin of the dimly visible bride. To—to find myself. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient.
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