‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. “Impossible to say,” he answered.
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