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 tone was that there might be many things about Léon he didn't know.

Then he recalled that Léon and a sister had played the children in A Doll's House to an unappreciative audience in Lyon.

He was extremely ill at ease. Something in the girl's calm surveyal of him made him feel weak and maladroit. If she had asked him to sit down he might have overcome the feeling, but apparently that amenity hadn't occurred to her. As for her, she hadn't budged from her strange perch, except to reach for a cigarette.

At length, with an explosive little sigh of impatience, she pulled off her dark blue béret and Grover took the liberty to place himself in a corner of the sofa, while she smoothed her hair. As he watched her his feeling of embarrassment took a strange turn; it was becoming a feeling of fascination. Her hair was like corduroy in color; and it had the same dull sheen. A mixture of gold and fawn, as though gold had been painted on where the light ought to strike and then the head had moved out so that the light really struck the brown patches and the gold was in shadow. The effect was dull, rich, mottled, bizarre. The gold and fawn shades stole into her cheeks and behind her ears. She was all in shades of ivory, honey, amber, and amethyst. For her deadish white skin the only adjective Grover could find was "callow," which he immediately rejected as absurd. Her body, sheathed in a