The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. ” Annabel gave a little gasp.
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