She pointed suddenly at the portrait. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. ’ He could just see the glare. " "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. 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. " Jonathan raised his bludgeon, but controlled himself by a powerful effort. What was his problem, she thought to herself.
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