” He closed the door of 109 in her face. Hoped you'd not be retaken. There was a concerted gasp of shock from both the black-garbed lad and the coachman. Light flooded the place. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. But we cannot discuss this here. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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