At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. "Come along! We'll start that concert right away. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings.
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