She had decided that she would begin with her pearl necklace. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. The flush deck was without wells.
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