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. She had not at first the power for concealment. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction.
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