’ The lashes fluttered demurely. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. Now go. 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.
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