Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. 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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