A sinister thought edged in. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. "I shall like to call you that. 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. By a sort of instinct. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. " "But Wild still lives," cried Wood.
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