But that brought Mrs. Earles remarked genially. You came out like an ant for your nuptial flight. “Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. 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. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses.
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