She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging.
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