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. Thames, look the door. " "And I will, if I can, depend upon it," answered Sheppard, with a laugh. Widgett was a journalist and art critic, addicted to a greenish-gray tweed suit and “art” brown ties; he smoked corncob pipes in the Avenue on Sunday morning, travelled third class to London by unusual trains, and openly despised golf. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. She looked stealthily at Anna. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. \"Thanks for lending me the clothes. Observe it—a blue-serge coat.
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