After a long fifteen seconds, she pulled her head back into the seat, looking at his face from the close angle, his nose huge and out of perspective, his eyes like round blue pearls. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. ’ ‘Dunderhead. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Sheppard put out her arms mechanically. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room.
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