The water was cold but she waded deeper. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ” “Right!” he said, and hesitated, and then got up and went into the preparationroom. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. 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.
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