One doesn’t want to lose a grain. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. There could not, he decided, possibly be two girls so much alike.
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