” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. "Show me your warrant!" said Wood, almost driven to his wit's-end; "perhaps it isn't regular?" "Ask him who he is?" suggested Thames. She never had been much of a looker, but she had stopped worrying about such things long ago. “Dear John,” she whispered. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all.
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