“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. I am going to make a fresh start. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. Ennison himself, with the recollection of Annabel’s visit still fresh in his mind, was for a moment constrained and ill at ease. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled.
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