“I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. “There’s the whole situation. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. “Do you know him?” Lucy replied, “No, I haven’t met him. Not MY affair. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. " "Wear that to-night, then. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. She went to her own table and sat down. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock.
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