A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. But Miss Mary and me—’ Melusine looked up as the woman broke off again. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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