Sebastian was physically beautiful, she reflected. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. “Sold again,” she remarked. I did think it could be done. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming.
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