And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you.
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