Dolls. In one of the big gates was a little door, and she rapped at this. Jack's nose was broad and flat; Darrell's straight and fine as that of Antinous. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. A little relieved by this step toward reinstatement, she went on to the Imperial College to forget her muddle of problems for a time, if she could, in the presence of Capes. For all that, it is folly.
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