The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. . “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup.
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