It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. “Look round the table,” she said. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again.
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