’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk.
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