The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. 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. Its very calmness was frightful.
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