She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. He could not make good his hold. "Don't alarm yourself. "Where is my mother?" he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance.
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