“Until you marry, Vee,” said Hetty. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. ” “I’ll wait, then. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. Spurling, drily. It was you! It was exactly you, but it was probably the photo they thought it was your mother! I dug it up after combing the Reader’s Guide To Periodical Literature for like, six hours straight. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. Spurling and Marvel rose too.
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