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The young man waiting at the entrance of the drive in smart riding-kit was good--looking in an effeminate way. His fair hair was brushed neatly back over the top of his head, and was brightly brilliantined; his nails were daintily manicured; and his hands, of which he was inordinately proud, were white and graceful. One of these rose to lift his hat in a sweeping salute as Marjorie, dressed for walking, came through the gate.
"Hullo, Marjorie," he said, "I thought you were riding this morning?"