Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. Paul’s, were rich and wonderful with the soft sunshine of London, the softest, the finest grained, the most penetrating and least emphatic sunshine in the world. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram.
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