His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. 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. Moreover, she claims that this whole enterprise of hers is purely for the purpose of marrying an Englishman. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it.
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