She still could not muster the strength to leave. CHAPTER III. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. Cocking the gun. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway.
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