’ ‘So did your business about marrying an Englishman seem to me,’ Gerald returned. "But, I own, I think it is like. You're an angel of goodness. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. Let me say it to you. 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.
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