Shotbolt?" asked Austin. When is the game?\" She did her best to overhaul her own appearance for 63 the greater part of an hour, blotting lips, fluffing the brush over her face. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. " "In case of need you will lend a helping hand?" "Yes—yes. " "Let me see.
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