CHAPTER XXIII. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity. . There is no Heaven for your mother. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. ” They returned to the crypt. I even offered him back the half interest he had sold to me. I'm no mollycoddle. 1. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it.
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