As soon as he was gone, the two women divested themselves of their hoods and cloaks, and threw them, as if inadvertently, into the farthest part of the angle in the wall. 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. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica.
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