He was heartily thankful for it. 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. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. He stood before her.
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