’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. She did not wince. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine.
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