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 know less about this affair perhaps than you suppose. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. One transgression; he was sure of that.
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