Tell me I haven’t heard. Hitherto she had seen it chiefly in pictures and other works of art, incidentally, and as a thing taken out of life. Again silence. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. "At the bottom of that big envelope I found this one. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me.
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