Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. 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. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent.
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