She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. Mrs. One of the shutters was a trifle damaged, letting in added light. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet.
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