“Your name and address in his pocket was no delusion,” he said sharply. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. You did not learn that in a convent. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. I don’t conceal it.
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