CHAPTER VIII. The perfume was the only one she ever used. All at once he saw a way out of the threatening doldrums. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror.
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