Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. ‘I doubt it. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. ” “But Hainault—assured—me—that the marriage was binding. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. ’ ‘Yes, that is what he said,’ agreed Melusine, pleased to find him of so ready an understanding. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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