She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her.
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