“I see nothing of my sister,” she said. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. . Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful.
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