“Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. ” “Heavens!” the lady exclaimed. She's too pretty and unusual. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks.
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