Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. ” “I thought so,” Courtlaw said. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. She was silent.
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