Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. get in. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. 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. . Don't be afraid, man,—off with it.
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