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Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. “Mrs. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. He smiled complacently. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. "A missioner! That illuminates everything.
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