The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. Vorsack sat alone at his computer in his pajamas. “Mean as an old mule, too. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away. “I think they do. Or run me through. He was suddenly calm.
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