Her eyebrows were lifted in expostulation. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. He came down the shop looking for her quite obviously, and took up a position on the other side against a mirror in which he was able to regard her steadfastly.
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