Her eyes seemed to be looking backwards. He touched her breast as if he was testing the waters of a cold lake. Spurlock. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky.
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