Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. She decided to leave after Prom. “All right so far,” she said to herself. III. Then she saw him. ‘Now then, missie. ” “It wouldn’t be you either. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. .
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