" "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. You were only one room removed from the library, see. You look like a movie star. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. Nor had Jack been idle all this time.
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