“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. But, after all, it will be different. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops.
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