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. They had much to talk about, or rather Miss Prudence had. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. ‘Certainly you are imbecile.
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