Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. She chastised herself for thinking of her husband and lord as being weak. It vosh plain he vent dat vay. However the taste of the architecture may be questioned, which was the formal French style of the period, the general effect was imposing. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly.
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