He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform.
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