“Mr. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. Salvation. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony.
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