“You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. 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. I admit it. I know exactly what I am doing. ” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. You must remember, you've just begun to read; you haven't any comparisons. He was painfully in earnest, too. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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