She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. When they came to the round-house, Terry's courage failed him. ‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully.
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