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. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. He waved to her.
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