But you belong to me—and I want 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. It’s not fair to you. Every slight action is influenced by what he imagines would be the opinion of other people. "Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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