She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. Wood hadn't struck me. ‘Poor things. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. It will take a month to clean up.
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