She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. And the sergeant, having carried out all Melusine’s instructions as if they had come out of his own head, went up to check on his patient, apparently at last convinced that his prisoner would not attempt to run away. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. She was wan and white. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. My garden-close would be a better thing than that.
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