” Miss Stanley turned to her. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. She twanged the catgut under her fingers. It was precious for two reasons: it was the photograph of her beautiful mother whom she could not remember, and it would identify her to the aunt in Hartford. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different.
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