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He was shifting to reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. "I have a token to deliver to you," continued the stranger, addressing her. Considering his convictions he felt that his remark was a generous one. 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. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat.
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