” “Perhaps not in a general way,” he answered calmly. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. I had consecrated my life to His Work; and I took the primrose path. 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. The boy would never know just how lucky he was.
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