"Promise me that. The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. "Don't you know me, mother?" "Ah!" shrieked Mrs. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly.
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