The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “We’ve never known anyone who can play like you, Lucy. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. ‘Certainly you must have seen her. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. I know all about it. She stared.
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