Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. Old pupil. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings.
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