You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. But, let's see the prisoner. Wood, disdainfully. He was really very bright and clever, with a sort of conversational boldness that was just within the limits of permissible daring.
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