But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. You didn’t even put the twelve words. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. Spurlock lay with his head on his arms, asleep. I am not prying for my own amusement. 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. 1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License.
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