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. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. Nothing else was put in their place, and they remained sotto voce, as it were, in his mind. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Then it dawned. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar.
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