Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. He hated himself a little for it. " "Is he leaving England?" demanded Thames, in astonishment. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. “It is not that. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value.
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