I'll have a peep at him, if I die for it," she muttered, as she went out. ’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. She was still good at following orders.
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