“Okay. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. “Thank you. The worst was over now. ” Michelle smiled at Lucy. 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.
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