It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. You told him there wasn't anything in the pockets?" "Yes. Michelle answered the door. I did not lay any traps for her. 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. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. .
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