What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head.
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