Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post.
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