’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. ‘Is there a resemblance?’ ‘This is Mary Remenham?’ ‘That is my late niece, yes. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House. But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. Perhaps it was just as well there was no inherited memory.
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