Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. ’ Gerald sat back in his chair, thinking hard. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. I am glad you found me. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though.
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