As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. And then, there would be the question of money. He was heartily thankful for it. A dovecoloured kincob gown, embroidered with large trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly. H’m. She could manage the major. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault.
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