A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Ann Veronica decided that “hoydenish ragger” was the only phrase to express her. “The ones Cariolus did for me. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk.
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