Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house.
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