The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. And nothing to tell her where to begin. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s.
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