Lonesomeness isn't my worry. 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. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. All that she had ever loved were gone, except Sebastian. This was his sister, evidently in the last extremity.
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