. ’ Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. . " "Then it was not a dream!" ejaculated Sir Rowland in a hollow voice, and as if speaking to himself.
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