The colour slowly left her cheeks, the lines of her mouth hardened. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. ” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition.
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