But it must have been something that could show her to be Mary’s daughter. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. Stanley considered. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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