The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. ’ Melusine stared. “Never was such an age of transition. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. She did not know Mr. But McClintock's mind was perceptive, whereas Spurlock's was only dully confused.
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