’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. CHAPTER XXI. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. "Often. 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.
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