She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. "Have nine years so changed me, that there is no trace left of your adopted son?" "God bless me!" ejaculated the carpenter, rubbing his eyes, "can—can it be?" "Surely," screamed Mrs. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady.
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