Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands.
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