" CHAPTER XIII. 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. Ramage, speaking the simplest first thought of his heart. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. " "As in a dream. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. She was definitely following him. " When Spurlock had finished the tale, touched here and there by his own imagination, McClintock made a negative sign.
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