A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. But she did not in the least want to do that. I tell you what, Mr. Heliers. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened.
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