The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs.
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