‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. " "Well, well, since you desire it, I'll say no more," returned Wood. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. 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. He drew her closer.
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