She is no longer mine; she is yours. “Never. She studied the face and tried to visualize the body, clothed in the dress which had created the spinsters' astonishment. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. ‘Come, cry a truce.
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