And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Kneebone was attired in the extremity of the mode. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done.
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