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 was—a millionaire. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away.
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