One day it was gone. Can't I make you understand? Perhaps it sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be cruel defensively. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. 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. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself.
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