He stopped before her suddenly. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. His eyes were bright with the hunt. 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.
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